Never Let Down Your Guard
by Algrene
Summary: Captain Pullings knows little of the nature of his prisoners. But he is about to discover. Rated K to T.
1. Chapter 1

The silence of waves calmed him, the soft breeze in his hair comforted him, and the respectful tread on the deck behind him elated him. The wind in the sails brought a smile to his face as it thrust the ship forward. _His _ship. Tom found a new godly respectfulness in the seamen's glances. It daunted him, as well as pleasing him; the captain had the power of life and death over the crew.

As a midshipman, captaincy had seemed as far off to him as the sun. He had never in earnest imagined himself as the straight-backed figure on the quarter-deck, watching over the working of his ship with a critical eye.

But now he was that figure.

Putting a first lieutenant with as good a record as himself as acting-captain of a forty-four gun ship on a voyage from Brazil to England was as good as a promotion, together with the bags of letters, despatches and the very news of the victory of a small British frigate over a Frenchman almost twice her size. Tom felt the rush of gratitude to Captain Aubrey that he had felt in his last minute aboard the _Surprise_ again now.

_Captain Pullings_. That sounded well. Tom couldn't help the thought making him grin. Soon he would wear an epaulette, shining on his left shoulder, but he would still have a long time before he could wear two. Still longer before he could command even a small frigate such as the _Surprise_. But Tom didn't mind. He was content.

The shortage of available officers meant that he still kept watch, divided between him, a midshipman, and two warrant officers.

He observed the dejected group of surviving French officers, who were standing in the forepeak. Their senior, a burly third lieutenant paused in his conversation to the fourth lieutenant and glared pointedly at Tom, who bowed his head courteously in return. The _Acheron_'s fourth officer, only a little older than Calamy had been- Tom caught his breath at the memory of Calamy's pale, bloodied face on the deck of this very ship- looked miserable and confused, as if he still hadn't quite accepted his defeat. The third lieutenant was one he should watch. He looked the type that might try a rash escape. But without a captain and only two lieutenants, the crew would probably not be able to manage a successful coup.

"Six bells, sir,"

But that was Mr Parslow coming to relieve his watch.

Tom smiled encouragingly at the gangly blonde midshipman as he passed him. It was a huge responsibility on the boy- but Tom couldn't stay up on deck; it would give the impression that he didn't trust Parslow, and it would hurt discipline.

And Tom needed to sleep.

The last rest he had got was a few hours sleep before preparations for the battle had started. It seemed like months ago; but it was only a few days. He fought against a yawn as he climbed down the hatchway.

So quickly the marks of the battle had disappeared. No trace now of the blood and the bodies that had lain here before, and none of the shattered glass, nor any of the signs of the captain's personality.


	2. Chapter 2

The great cabin in the _Acheron _was larger, and more lavishly decorated than Captain Aubrey's one on the _Surprise_. Tom marvelled at the bookshelves that arrayed the walls and wondered how all that could be hastily bundled away at beating to quarters. He smiled at the files of music, reminding him of the _Surprise_, and of how he had stood his evening watches and listened to the captain and the doctor's music playing in the Cabin. He found it hard to believe that all this was his now. Or at least until the _Acheron _was sold into the service; and then he would get a little sloop, far removed from the luxury in which a captain of a large frigate lived.

The patched stern windows were open, letting in the breeze to the previously stuffy cabin, and Tom stared out into the dark sea, where the _Acheron_'s lights were reflected beautifully.

He stretched himself, and opened the door to his night cabin. Realising something was missing, he called for Johnson, a supernumerary landsman who had been his servant aboard the _Surprise _and was now his steward, to bring him a cot.

He lay down gratefully, as ever his tall frame spilling over the sides of the hammock, and fell quickly asleep, as every seaman, able to fall asleep and wake up at a moment's notice.

The ship sailed gently but speedily through the water, royals and studdingsails set, and the huge white moon illuminating the ship on the obscurity of the waves.

The air was warm; they were nearing the equator, but the heat wasn't yet oppressive. They would need to put in for stores; the _Acheron_'s were apparently very low, or else had been emptied over the side when the French had realised they were losing the battle, and the jury main-topmast would not stand any force of gale; thus leaving the undermanned ship thrashing in the water.

Tom also doubted that any of the _Surprise_'s hands would be safe under the care of the French surgeon, who seemed particularly incompetent.

_Surprise _had come out to Brazil to stop _Acheron _carrying the war here, and she had succeeded. Now the greatest sea power this side of the Atlantic was under Tom's command; a thought which sat strangely on his shoulders.

The midshipmen's merry celebratory singing from below floated up to the deck, and Tom listened to it, almost asleep, and it brought back happy memories from his past.


End file.
